


Clues In The Shadows

by Fox_Salz



Series: Jane and Nepeta Detective Agency AU [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society (Homestuck), Background Relationships, Chucklevoodoos, F/F, Mystery, POV Second Person, Pre-Relationship, Private Investigators, background eqkat, background solrezi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-10-17 08:11:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17556596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_Salz/pseuds/Fox_Salz
Summary: As Jane and Nepeta continue on the case things only get more confusing--and harrowing.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo look what I'm continuing! I should warn that while I wouldn't call the violence too graphic it is there and there is blood. Also implied past war and hints of possible PTSD.

A week has passed since The Palehouse Cafe was targeted by the woman you were tailing and her accomplice. The reasons are still unclear, but you’re on the case. You and Nepeta have been working closely with Legislacerator Terezi Purrope—Pyrope! Nepeta’s puns sometimes rub off on you—since you were there when it happened.

 

Her people immediately tried to track down the pair but not hide nor hair of them have been found. They just disappeared. You had hoped maybe the woman would have gone to her matesprit, but Mr. Ampora vehemently denied having seen her after. You’re inclined to believe him. In part because Pyrope had him watched for a few days just to be sure, but mostly because of the way he flopped down miserably in your office bemoaning what his matesprit had done. It wasn’t a front; Eridan Ampora was just a rather dramatic troll.

 

You feel quite bad for him, honestly. Not only did his matesprit use and betray him, but she blew up the place where he went to in lieu of having a moirail. Now, in his own words, he was a “wworthless quadrantless disgrace not fit to fill a pail.”

 

Nepeta had done her best to reassure him, laying his head in her lap and stroking his hair (in a very platonic way, of course!). She also offered him her so called shipping expertise which had made Ampora gaze up at her with hopeful eyes. She’d pulled out a long list which she apparently had for all her friends detailing who she thought would fit well with who and in what quadrant(s). She keeps it constantly updated. You had just watched in bemusement. Your partner really is something.

 

But! Back on the case at hand.

 

You did some digging and found out that Beard, the accomplice, was named Benny Smith. Before that, Owen Jones. Before _that_ a whole slew of aliases. You and Terezi have linked a few to anti-alien organizations. So that answers the question of why they set a bomb off in a troll establishment, but not why they set it off in that particular one.

 

Was The Palehouse Cafe targeted because of the trolls working there in particular?

 

You certainly hope not. You rather like everyone there. Karkat, the owner, is quite abrasive but doesn’t seem like he has any deep hidden secrets. Not even the fact that he’s a mutant is a secret since the current empress declared them fully deserving of rights as all other trolls; still it’s not something he readily flaunts. Could that be it? Targeting a mutant troll for some reason?

 

It may be time to talk to Karkat Vantas.

 

Being close friends with him, it’s no problem for Nepeta to find out when he’s free. The pair of you go to the apartment he shares with Kanaya when you know she’s out. Nepeta texts him right before you arrive and he says to just come on in.

 

The first thing you notice is how _neat_ everything is. The second thing is a strangled scream from the other room.

 

Instincts taking over, you and Nepeta rush into the kitchen. Karkat is at the table pulling his hair and gritting his teeth as he glares at the screen of his laptop. Or husktop? Whatever Alternian computers are called. The important thing is he’s not being attacked except by his own hands.

 

“Stupid fish bastard,” he seethes to himself. “Never fucking listens.”

 

“What’s wrong, Karkitty?”

 

Karkat whips towards you, apparently just realizing you had arrived. There’s a red tint to his cheeks from embarrassment or maybe rage. His response is a name wrapped around a strange mixture of aggravation and fondness, with the latter more of an aftertaste that’s hard to detect.

 

“Eridan.”

 

Nepeta nods sagely.

 

“I told that bastard I didn’t want him to pay for the renovations. He kept insisting but I shot him down every time. I thought that was the end of it but _now_ I see some ‘anonymous donor’—“ you’ve never seen air quotes performed so vehemently— “sent me the exact amount I mentioned to him.”

 

“Are you quite sure it’s from him?” you ask. Karkat sure is adept at scowling.

 

“Of fucking course I’m sure! What other rich asshole would do that?” Nepeta opens her mouth. “And don’t say Equius because he knows better.”

 

“He did say you threatened to feed his bulge to a cholerabear if he tried to pay for everything,” Nepeta comments, going over and sitting on his right. You take the chair beside her. “It was a very long feelings jam, Karkitty. You know he just wants to help you. Both of them do.”

 

“Yeah, well, fuck his good intentions, and Eridan’s too. I don’t want to keep relying on other people, damn it! I can figure out how to fix the Palehouse on my own.”

 

“That’s very admirable of you, Karkat. I’m sure you can manage. Not that there’s anything wrong with taking the offered help of your friends.”

 

“Or your matesprit,” Nepeta adds pointedly. “It’s killing him that you won’t let him help you.”

 

This makes Karkat look away, the redness growing across his cheeks. “Yeah, well, he helps in other ways and that’s what matters. But, if I really do need him—or Eridan—to help I’ll let them know. It’s still bullshit to go behind my back like this. Does he think I’m an idiot? Like I wouldn’t know it’s obviously Eridan?”

 

“Is there really no one else it could be?” you wonder.

 

“I would almost say Gamzee but he would forget to have it anonymous.” Realization dawns on Karkat’s face when he looks at you two properly for the first time, like it just hit him you aren’t here to listen to this. “Anyway, why are you two here? Please tell me you know something more about the pieces of absolute shit that blew up my cafe.”

 

It makes you feel awful when you shake your head and he becomes crestfallen. You wish there was something to tell him but all you can do is ask if there’s anyone or reason why he in particular might be targeted.

 

“I’ve been a goddamn target my whole life, but I left that shit behind when we got Feferi the throne. Mostly. There’s plenty of trolls that still find me a mutant abomination but the assholes that did this were human. Why would humans give a single shit about my blood color?”

 

“It could have nothing to do with your blood, Karkat. Perhaps they didn’t like your services.”

 

Karkat throws his arms up. “Oh, great. First you humans don’t understand quadrants, now some of you are, what? Calling a public pale service indecent? I get enough pushback from prude trolls that are just bitter they have to pay for a little pale action.”

 

“I meant more that some of your clientele were human. And it’s only a theory. We have very little to go off of, unfortunately.”

 

“Ugh, don’t tell me this is the work of some anti-troll extremists. Fuck, is it worse or better if it’s not directly about me?”

 

“Either way The Palehouse was hurt, but it and you will bounce back, Karkitty!” Nepeta puts a hand on top of his and beams. She’s absolutely radiant, and you can’t help smiling yourself. Even the corners of Karkat’s lips twitch upwards.

 

“Yeah, I’ll have it back up and running in no time. Who knows what these assholes would do without my services.”

 

“In the meantime be careful. If anything happens do let us know.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. You two just focus on solving this mystery. I doubt anyone else is gonna try and blow me up. Even if they did my matesprit’s already been up my wastechute almost twenty-four seven since the whole bomb thing. Not even another bomb can get through that guy. I’ll be fine.”

 

—

 

After leaving Karkat’s you two check in with Terezi. She’s at her office which was added on to the precinct when your respective leaders agreed to start joining forces. It’s been a long process, and it hasn’t been easy for trolls like Terezi who work on Earth, but she’s got a lot of spunk which you admire. Also a cane with a sword inside of it. She challenged a lot of people to a duel when she first came here. Several smug officers had taken her up on the offer and she’d proven she didn’t need eyesight to take them down.

 

You knock on her office door and she calls out for you to enter. Nepeta bounds in ahead of you, tossing a kiss Terezi’s way that she mimes catching. It wouldn’t be wrong to say you’re a smidge jealous, but you know this is just a thing they’ve done since roleplaying together as kids. You’ve seen Terezi’s dragonsona. Very impressive.

 

“Ladies. Anything to report?”

 

“We visited Karkitty,” Nepeta replies, telling her about the conversation you had and how you don’t particularly have any further leads.

 

Mouth a somehow dour yet pleased line she reveals, “I do.” Terezi turns her husktop around. The screen is filled with different human faces, all arrested or wanted. “We’re definitely looking at an anti-troll terrorist group. There have been several other hits in different states. Not all bombs. There was a shooting in Texas targeting a heavy troll district, a Molotov cocktail thrown through the window of a clown church in Portland, a string of home invasions in New York where nothing was taken. Some of the trolls hit were quadranted with humans.”

 

Your mouth tugs firmly downward. You hate that your worst fears seem to be right. And you trust Terezi’s judgement on all this being connected—she has a natural insight and a keen mind for these things.

 

“This is way bigger than two people who didn’t like a pale cafe.”

 

Terezi nods grimly.

 

—

 

There’s a breeze when you walk out of the precinct. With a shiver you pull your jacket closer. You glance at Nepeta who isn’t as affected. Years of living out in the wilderness and calling a cave home—or hive, rather—has built up her tolerance, you suppose. She is certainly capable of surviving on her own in numerous scenarios. That doesn’t change the fact her shared hive is currently empty, Equius off on important business for the empress, and you hate the thought of dropping her off there.

 

“Hey, Nepeta. I’m going to my dad’s for dinner, why don’t you come along?”

 

“Are mew sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

 

“Of course not! My father always loves having you over. He was asking about you the other day.” Specifically Dad asked if you’d made a proper attempt to court her yet, to which you let out an indignant squawk.

 

“Well, I don’t have any other plans. Sure, I’d love to come. Thank you, Jane!”

 

She links your arms together as you head for your car. It’s amazing how all at once you can feel so heavy yet somehow like you’re walking on air. Nepeta absolutely astounds with how many different emotions she ignites in you. It’s positively exhilarating! It’s also quite terrifying!

 

Shoving all that aside, you open the passenger door for Nepeta like the gentlewoman you are. She giggles and does a little curtsy that’s so at odds with her attire. In your eyes though she’s a dazzling queen, trench coat and all. More regal than the empress herself.

 

Along the way to Dad’s place you two start discussing the case, which leads to Nepeta admitting she’s a little _afuraid_ for her friends.

 

“We can all take care of ourselves just fine. Well, I think if Terezi didn’t make him Sollux would only drink Mountain Dew, and Equius keeps insisting I bathe more than once a week—stupid horse doesn’t understand you gotta mask your scent against predators,” she whispers to herself ominously before her volume shoots back up. “But! That’s an entirely diffurent sort of taking care. It’s just...”

 

She trails off and you take your eyes off the road just for a second. She’s gazing out her window, head angled away from you. Still you can just make out the downwards tug of her mouth. It’s a moment before she speaks again, words so faint you strain to catch them all.

 

“I just don’t want another war. It was hard enough the first time.”

 

“Nepeta—“

 

She whips around, suddenly all smiles again. “So what’s Mr. Crockat making fur dinner? I’m starved!”

 

You go along with the abrupt subject change, knowing she doesn’t want to talk about it. None of them ever discuss the war except to each other, and certainly not to an outsider like you. Of course you’ve read up all about how Nepeta and her friends fought valiantly to defeat Her Imperious Condescension and crown Feferi. Something that had been in the making for eons, long before they were hatched. A war for peace started by their ancestors that they had to pick up the pieces of or else be culled.

 

But history books never tell about the personal turmoil. They give the names, the places where it all went down, but they can’t truly capture the small moments. The fear, the heartache, the turmoil of fighting side by side with your friends and knowing any of them could easily fall. You don’t know everything that went down, but it’s no bet that it was harsh.

 

With a smile you hope isn’t obvious in its farce you tell her, “I’m not quite sure what’s for dinner itself, but I know he baked an apple pie I’m sure will knock our socks off.”

 

The blissfully short remainder of the car trip is cheery enough. Nepeta’s unexpected melancholia doesn’t make a return.

 

You pull into the driveway of your childhood home. Nepeta gets out before you can open the door for her, but you make up for it by offering her your arm which she takes. A smile graces her lips that leaves your heart all aflutter. You’re no match for the full force of Nepeta’s charm and beauty. You make yourself look forward and escort her to the front door.

 

Being the gentlewoman you are—Dad raised you with manners, damn it!—you open the door and motion her in first. Which leads to her being smacked in the face with a pie.

 

“Oh shit. Ha, sorry, Nepeta. I didn’t realize Jane was bringing company.”

 

Peering around Nepeta you narrow your eyes at your brother, promising deep and painful retribution. He grins wide in return and even waves, the brat.

 

Nepeta giggles, wiping a clump of whipped cream from her face.

 

“Oh John. Mew should never mess with a purredator.”

 

Then she pounces, and with a yelp of shock John is on his back, whipped cream and pie being smeared over his face. Nepeta even gets some in his hair for good measure. You absolutely laugh at your brother’s miserable expression.

 

“I guess I probably deserved that.”

 

Nepeta nods cheerfully and hops off of him.

 

Just as you are about to offer Nepeta directions to the bathroom so she can freshen up, there’s a deep fatherly chuckle. He’s in the doorway casting an amused eye over the tomfoolery aftermath.

 

“Good form as always, Nepeta. Jane didn’t tell me to set a plate for you. Of course you’re always welcome.”

 

“It's a good thing you like sur-purr-ises!”

 

She extends her hand before remembering it’s still coated with whipped cream. Dad chuckles and shakes it firmly anyway.

 

“John, why don’t you show our guest to a bathroom and both of you can clean up. Jane can help me with dinner.”

 

As they bound off, playfully teasing and flicking pie at each other, you follow Dad into the kitchen. While he tends to the roast you set the table.

 

“How’s work, sweetheart?”

 

“Well, I can’t say it’s all hunky dory, but progress is being made.”

 

“Good good. Now, how’s your courting going?”

 

“ _Dad_ ,” you groan, striking a fork down on the table harder than intended. “We are simply friends and colleagues. Nothing else.”

 

“Hm. Shame.”

 

He goes back to the food but you know him, he has plenty more to say. It’s there on the tip of his tongue but his mouth holds it all begrudgingly at bay until you encourage him. Which you shouldn’t! And you won’t!

 

For a year now, since Dad caught on to your little crush, he’s been trying to convince you to pursue Nepeta. She’s a fine young woman, he’ll say, sweet disposition. Which is true! She’s also beautiful and a majestic forest spirit come to bless your little detective agency.

 

But you absolutely won’t admit that to Dad, and you surely won’t dare to speak a word to Nepeta on the matter. Better to not shake the sleeping beast, as they say. You think they say it. Someone must. You are, and that’s what matters.

 

Anyway! Back on track. Dad is pointedly not saying anything more on the matter. Good. Now you can go back to—poorly—pretending you don’t have romantic inclinations towards your partner. Perfect.

 

“There are so many hurdles, it’s a far less messy business to just continue as is,” you find yourself saying. Goddamn it.

 

Dad _hm_ s and somehow that coaxes more antsy words out of you.

 

“It’s not as though she’s given any sort of indication she’d be at all interested in me, for the record.”

 

“Maybe she would if you gave the first hint.”

 

Before you can protest Nepeta and John are there and the conversation has mercifully been halted. What is it Gamzee says? Motherfucking miracles.

 

“It smells so good!” Nepeta compliments, positively beaming.

 

“Hope it tastes just as good,” Dad returns, motioning for her to have whichever seat she wishes. She always takes the same one whenever she comes over, right next to yours.

 

“I’m pawsitive it’s scrumptious, James.”

 

As dinner gets underway pleasant conversations fill the room. John explains some of the new things he’s trying on his channel; he invites Nepeta as a special guest which she gladly accepts. It’s a lovely evening. Then Dad asks how she’s been, hinting at any quadrant changes. While she’s focused on him you cast your father a strong look of daughterly disapproval. He is a stoic log against it.

 

John is doing a poor job of stifling a snicker so you kick his shin. His leg jerks up and bangs the underside of the table. Pain crosses his face and he lets out a strangled sound that’s quite satisfying.

 

Ignoring your antics, Nepeta admits, “Nothing mew on my end! Just me and my meowrail. It’s been too busy with this mew case to even think about other quadrants.”

 

“Well a swell young lady like you will have no problem finding potential suitors once things quiet down. I’m sure there’s one closer than you even realize.”

 

“Ha, yes, well,” you interject, voice just an octave too loud. “ _Well_. Enough about us, Dad. How about you.”

 

With an easy grin he replies, “I’m still not seeing anyone, sweetheart.”

 

“That is not what I meant and you know it.”

 

“Oh! If you want I bet I could scrounge up a purrfect line of matesprit candidates.”

 

Dad chuckles. “That’s sweet, Nepeta, but I don’t foresee myself getting into another relationship. If something happens by I wouldn’t deny it, but I don’t have a need to _purrsue_ it.”

 

Nepeta is pleased by his pun. “The offur is always on the table if mew change your mind.”

 

She’s saying something else, but the words are lost to a crash in the front room. Everyone springs up. You race in, calling for Dad to stay back. He doesn’t listen and is right by your side, Nepeta on your left, as you see what made that sound: there’s a brick on the floor amidst shards of glass.

 

Instantly you’re ordering your brother to call Terezi. As he whips his phone out you’re inching carefully towards the window but then Nepeta’s tackling you to the ground. There’s an all too familiar _bang_ that leaves a faint ring in your ears. A gunshot.

 

Your head swivels towards John and your father but they’re both unharmed. In fact Dad is on top of things, grabbing a nearby vase and chucking it out the window. His aim is true as you hear a thud followed by hissed curses. In a flash Nepeta is off of you and lunging out the window. You catch a glint of metal before she’s out of view; she’s attached her metal claw gloves.

 

Springing to your feet you race over and peer out, surprised hollering and the sounds of a scuffle igniting the night. Nepeta has the shooter on the ground, gun abandoned in the yard a few feet away. You volt out the window and quickly retrieve it. Nepeta has this one so you look around, fearing another assailant.

 

Your heart stops as there’s another gunshot. Coming from inside the house.

 

You peer back in the broken window just in time to see Dad deck a guy across the face so hard he flies back and slams against the wall, slumping to the ground. You love Dad so much.

 

“Jane!”

 

You whip back around to Nepeta who still has the first shooter subdued. He’s wiggling in her grasp. She motions with her chin towards the street and there you see a third perp racing off. Your feet are moving at top speed after them without hesitation.

 

You call out for them to stop but you’re not surprised when they don’t. What you are surprised by is their silhouette. Though the sun has set and it’s hard to make out many clear details, it’s very obvious you’re chasing someone with horns.

 

There’s no time to dwell on this as they round a corner. On high alert you follow, taking a wide berth. Your instincts serve you well; they had stopped, waiting for you.

 

They let swing a giant spiked bat that you narrowly avoid. Quite rude! You fire a warning shot into the troll’s leg. Being quite hardy, the troll staggers and growls; it isn’t going to go down from just that. So you shoot again, this time the bullet piercing their wrist. That doesn’t stop them from lunging at you.

 

You roll out of the way. Sirens reach your ears, quickly growing louder. Oh good. It turns out that this gun has just spent its last bullet and you’re rather reluctant to take this hulking, _armed_ troll one-on-one.

 

Your opponent seems reluctant to stick around. With one last nasty look at you they race off. You don’t follow. They’re dripping a trail that Terezi and her people can track. You step forward, brushing off your nice pants that now have a rip at the knee, and examine the troll’s blood.

 

It’s blue. Indigo, you believe. Nepeta’s moirail will surely take extra offense that one of his own creed dared try to hurt his diamond.

 

The other two shooters were human, you are absolutely positive. It seems things just keep getting more mysterious.

 

When you return to Nepeta and your family they’re all unharmed. The human assailants have been properly apprehended and there are officers going after the troll. Your father hugs you tight, then brings in Nepeta. Terezi is taking a statement from John, but when he sees you both come over, as well.

 

“Glad to smell you unharmed, Starflower.” She pulls a face. “Why do I detect rotten blueberries?”

 

“It seems we may have to rework our theories. Pyrope, they went after my family.”

 

“I know, Starflower. Don’t worry, I’m putting them under protection.”

 

“Purrhaps they’re not the only ones you should,” Nepeta suggests.

 

“Oh they’re not going to like that at all. But you’re absolutely right. It’ll be hell dragging everyone in.” Terezi grins. “Hope you two weren’t planning on sleeping.”

 

“Not until this case is solved,” you say, meaning it.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone decides on a course of action after last night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here! Another installment of mystery, romance, and aliens. 
> 
> We've got background:  
> Solrezi (pale)  
> Soleq (pitch)  
> Eqkat (red)  
> Kar/Kanaya/Fef (ashen)  
> Rosemary (red)  
> Roxy/Kanaya (pale)

“This is goddamn ridiculous,” Karkat growls not for the first time. Probably not for the last time. He has not been at all onboard with the suggestion everyone stay on Feferi’s ship for safety until these attacks get figured out.

 

Whenever Karkat’s matesprit tries to console him Equius only gets snapped at. He still makes the effort which is quite admiral.

 

Currently everyone is on the empress’ flagship. And you do mean _everyone_.

 

After the attack last afternoon you, Nepeta, and Terezi wrangled everyone up to converge here. There are the workers from The Palehouse, including human ones like your cousin Jade, and all but one of the other eleven trolls integral to Feferi’s reign. Your dad and John are here, as well, former resting in another room. Even a troll you’ve only met in passing, heard whispered rumors about his ferocity, is here.

 

Frankly Dualscar isn’t that intimidating when he’s just lounging in a corner like he doesn’t care what’s happening, sipping what you’re positive is spiked coffee.

 

“What’s glubbing ridiculous,” the empress herself says, “is that shore refusing to listen to reason, Crabkat.”

 

“Is that so surprising? I mean, this is Karkat,” Sollux points out. “Notoriously difficult for no good reason.”

 

“Fuck you, Sollux!”

 

Equius starts defending his matesprit’s honor while simultaneously agreeing that Karkat’s being difficult. Feferi smacks her hands on the table with an exasperated glub. Terezi steps up beside her diamond, knocking shoulders with Sollux. The picture of reason, she speaks over everyone.

 

“Let’s go over the facts. Your pale cafe,” she points her cane in Karkat’s direction, “was blown up by your now ex-matesprit.” She turns the cane on Eridan whose fins lower sullenly. “Then your human lusus’ hive was attacked while you were there,” Terezi continues, the cane now prodding your shoulder. With one finger you push it away. “Face the facts, Karkles. Shit is going down and it’s not safe.”

 

“Sure,” Karkat concedes through gritted fangs, “but when has shit ever been safe for us?”

 

“But Kar, this is different,” Eridan pleads, fins fluttering as he speaks. “You wwere specifically targeted! It’s better if you stay here. And the others a course.”

 

“I absolutely goddamn will not.”

 

“But Kar, wwith them goin right after you—“

 

“Eridan, guess how many fucks I give. Go ahead.” Karkat taps his foot, waiting.

 

“Is it—”

 

“ _None_. I don’t give one single fuck whether I’m specifically targeted by these colossal assholes. I’m staying on Earth and reopening my cafe.”

 

You don’t feel it’s your place to wedge yourself into the conversation. Karkat’s refusal is understandable, of course, but you only foresee things getting more dangerous. Thankfully there are others firmly in the camp of staying on the ship until things get sorted out—Kanaya, Equius, Sollux, Eridan, Feferi. They all try to convince the others, Karkat in particular, that it’s better to play it safe.

 

It’s Tavros who surprises you by pointing out, “We, uh, weren’t the only, trolls and people targeted, you know. There was that, clown church, amongst other attacks. So I don’t see what us, hiding away will, uh, accomplish.”

 

“Thank you,” Karkat says. “Finally someone else with a little common sense. If Nitram of all people—“

 

“Fuck you too, Karkat.”

 

Karkat flips him off without looking or pausing. “—can see what’s wrong with your plan, that it’s so ineffective and stupid it shouldn’t even be called a plan to begin with, then maybe it’s time for you all to take your heads out of your wastechutes for one hot minute.”

 

A lot more arguing erupts after that. It’s hard to focus on any one troll but you try to parse out as much as you can. There’s Equius trying to convince Nepeta and Karkat to stay on the ship while they protest indignantly. Then Nepeta turns right around and says Karkat really should; there’s a pointed dig about letting the muscles protect him, and she flexes. You suddenly feel like Equius as you subtly wipe sweat from your brow.

 

You glance around for something else to focus on and find your cousin Jade arguing with Eridan. She stomps her foot as he tries to convince her to stay on the ship. You hadn’t realized they knew each other well. Eridan seems quite concerned for her, though.

 

Not too far away is Kanaya, crowded on either side by your childhood friends and other two human employees at the cafe Rose and Roxy Strilonde. The latter is hanging off of her, and you catch a few snippets.

 

“There’s no way we’re just gonna chill on the empress’ admittedly banging ship, Naya.”

 

“I find it hard to believe you’re even considering this,” Rose comments. “I thought you’d be adamant in not showing fear to your enemies.”

 

“Well of course. But I do think it best for certain others to seek safety, such as you two and Karkat.”

 

“Hm. I can’t tell if that’s sweet or condescending.”

 

“Lol, babe, you gotta know by now that just ‘cuz we’re in your quadrants doesn’t mean we’re gonna let you sequester us away.”

 

Kanaya gives a long suffering sigh. You almost pity her. But not quite. Anyone who dates a Strilonde—red or pale—frankly brings it on themself.

 

Your attention is drawn towards the empress. It’s not her who hollers above the others but another troll you hardly know named Aradia. Even through this intense situation she had a large grin on her face. Everyone turns to her, quieting down.

 

“The floor is all yours, Feferi.”

 

“Thank you. Now.” Feferi stood, commanding air appropriate to an empress surrounding her. “If you are all being target it’s safest to keep you here.“

 

“It’s not like this will be forever,” Terezi adds. “Just until we solve this case.”

 

“If we all stay up here that includes you, TZ.”

 

Terezi turns to her moirail with a grin, saying, “Oh no, only the nonessentials would be staying up here. Me, Nepeta, and Jane will crack this wide open.”

 

“I’m okay wwith this,” Eridan decideds.

 

“I’m fucking not!” There was a growl behind Karkat’s words. “What I don’t get is why you’re trying to coddle us, Feferi. The humans I can understand wanting to protect, but us? That’s just ridiculous. Cronus back me up.”

 

“No, Cronus, back _me_ up.”

 

Feferi and Karkat looked pointedly at Dualscar.

 

“Vwhy are ye trying to drag me into this? None of ye listened vwhen ye vwere vwigglers, not like ye’ll listen nowv.”

 

“Thanks for that non answwer,” Eridan snipes. “Helpful as alwways.”

 

“Yer ex-matesprit is vwhy ewveryone is ewven here.”

 

Eridan made to lunge at the older troll but Jade grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him back. Dualscar didn’t even flinch, nonchalantly pulling out a flask and refilling his drink.

 

“If ye really vwant my input, then surprise—all of ye are vwrong.” That started a bit of an uproar, mostly from Feferi and Karkat, but Dualscar just continued over them like a man used to doing such. “Obvwiously safety is important, but hiding awvay vwon’t help matters. Little Nitram’s right. Best course o’ action is to watch each other’s backs, stay in constant contact. Same as vwe’vwe alwvays done it.” He takes a sip. “Oh, and probably make sure the humans are under protection. But no reason to hole ‘em up here.”

 

“I have to agree,” you finally speak up, drawing the old troll’s attention to you. “Police protection and staying in constant contact is the best way to go. I feel that’s a fair compromise.”

 

Feferi and Karkat begrudgingly accept this. Equius seems unsure but doesn’t speak up.

 

No one else has any criticisms and it’s settled. Soon the meeting dies down into everyone catching up with each other, semi private conversations between quadrants, and the like. You excuse yourself and slip into the other room where you left Dad. He’s reclining on a plush couch—lounging platform? troll couch? You don’t remember what they call those—and looking down at his phone. Your body relaxes just a bit and you realize how tense you’ve been holding yourself. You are so thankful nothing happened to him or John.

 

Going over to him you greet, “Hey Dad. Meeting’s over.”

 

He looks up with a wry smile, tucking away his phone. “I hope you aren’t going to try and keep me here for my own protection.”

 

You sit down and roll your eyes. “You’re as bad as the others. But no, I’m not. Even though I would prefer to keep you away from any possible danger, I know you’d hate that. We’re too much alike. But Terezi is putting everyone under police protection so you’ll have someone watching your back twenty-four seven.”

 

Dad chuckles but doesn’t complain. It’s not that he thinks all officers are incompetent, he’s just a strong willed guy. Also physically stronger than the whole force, no question about it. He passed this on to you and your brother. Manners, muscles, and stubbornness: the Crocker specialties.

 

“Just do me one favor, please Daddy?”

 

“You only call me that when you want something bad anymore, so maybe.”

 

You look him in the eyes over your glasses and tell him, “Don’t try to shake your bodyguard.”

 

With an easy smile Dad nods once. You’d be more frustrated with this man if you weren’t the exact damn way.

 

The door opens and you both turn. It’s Dualscar. He’s incredibly tall. You’ve seen him up close before but it’s striking every time. While you’re a modest five-six, he’s eight feet. Which is short for a troll of his age, so you’ve been told. You haven’t had many opportunities to meet older trolls.

 

He comes over saying, “Detective, I don’t knowv howv you put up vwith them.”

 

“Don’t you have more experience?”

 

“Yes, but I had little choice. You do it vwillingly.” He gives you something like a smile.

 

“They’re quite the collective of characters,” you agree with your own almost smile. “Easier to handle one or two at a time.”

 

Dualscar snorts in agreement. Then he focuses on Dad. “You must be Jane’s father.”

 

“James Crocker,” Dad greets, standing and offering his hand. Dualscar glances down before taking it. With a keen eye you notice how careful he is not to nick Dad with your claws.

 

“Cronus Ampora.”

 

“Shouldn’t I refer to you with a title?”

 

Grinning and flashing an impressive set of fangs—just like a shark, you think—he replies, “I’m retired. Just sticking around to help out the little empress and harass my descendant.”

 

“An admirable cause on both accounts.”

 

Dualscar actually does full on laugh at that. You feel a spark of daughterly pride that your father managed that; Dualscar, from what you’ve ever seen, is a bit of a gruffer troll. You’ve heard stories too, of course, and you know he’s not someone to cross.

 

“I heard vwhen your hivee was attacked you knocked a human vwith a gun out in a single punch. Impressive.”

 

“Instinct. A man can’t just let someone come into his home and harm his children.”

 

“Hm. I can see vwhere Jane gets it from. I’m glad you vwere all unharmed. I should be going nowv, though. It was a pleasure meeting ye, James Crocker.”

 

“Likewise, Cronus Ampora.”

 

As he leaves it occurs to you that he hadn’t let that seafearing way of speaking]sneak in until the end.

 

When he’s gone Dad asks, “Is that Dualscar?”

 

“Acute observation, Dad. I’ve obviously inherited my sharp wit from you.”

 

“Not your sass though.”

 

“I beg to differ.”

 

After a bit Nepeta and Tavros bound in. Both wave, Nepeta with her usual gusto while Tavros is much more tentative, almost like he’s unsure if he’s allowed to wave at your father.

 

“Uh, hello, Mr. Crocker. I’m really, glad you weren’t hurt.”

 

“It takes more than a few goons to keep down a Crocker.”

 

“How’s it going in there?” you wonder.

 

“Oh, Karkitty and Furferi started arguing about something and Kanyaha is playing ashen while denying that’s what’s happening, so we left.”

 

“Do they have black feelings for each other?”

 

“They just, rub each other the, uh, wrong way.”

 

“They’d never be good kismeses.” Nepeta crosses her arms, quite sure of her declaration.

 

“I’m just, glad Kanaya stepped in.”

 

With a smile you tease, “Time to update the shipping wall?”

 

Nepeta’s face lights up, gleam in her eyes as she grabs Tavros’ arm. “Tafuros, you should help me.”

 

“Sure! I wasn’t, doing anything else today, anyway.”

 

“And,” Nepeta adds, lips curling conspiratorially, “we can discuss _plans_.”

 

Well that was intriguing, especially paired with the sprinkling of bronze that suddenly appears across his cheeks and nose. It’s adorable.

 

Your phone dings and you take it out. A message from Dirk.

 

Our son is ready to go home with mama.

 

Smiling to yourself you announce, “I’ve got to go see Dirk. Dad—“

 

“I’ll wait around for John and Jade. Give him my regards.”

 

You nod then turn to the trolls. “Why don’t you two come with me? Dirk always enjoys seeing you, Nepeta, and I’m sure you could wrangle him into a rap off, Tav.”

 

They agree and you hug Dad goodby before leaving the ship via the transportalizer.

 

On the drive to Dirk’s Nepeta convinces you to sing while Tavros backs you up with rap. She takes care of the beatboxing. It’s all nonsense off the top of your heads but it’s fun! A good diversion from everything that’s been happening.

 

Dirk sends you another message to just come in so you don’t bother knocking. His house isn’t well lit; he’s always had sensitive eyes so he keeps them low or fully off. Thankfully you know your way around his organized chaos, and your companions are built for seeing in low light levels.

 

What none of you are built for is a tiny puppet to come riding into the room on a red tricycle. It’s accompanied by music that wouldn’t be out of place in a slasher film. The puppet comes to a stop right in front of you, head slowly craning up. Tavros inches behind you.

 

“Want to play a game, Jane?”

 

Oh, of course it has a speaker. Charming.

 

“Is this, going to be like the, last time where I ended up, covered in apple juice?”

 

“No, that was an accident. Mostly,” you assure, bending down to scoop the little puppet into your arms. You cradle it like a baby. “Hello, Hal. What are you up to now?”

 

“Jane. I see you brought company. To pass further you have to solve three—“

 

“OMG! Janey!” Another voice shouts from the puppet, overpowering Hal. “You brought me dear sweet Nepeta!”

 

“Hi, Dos!” Nepeta greets, leaning over Jane’s shoulder to smile down at the puppet.

 

“Yes, greetings all around,” Hal says, and you can imagine him tapping his foot wherever he and Dos are. “Now, three riddles. Riddle the first, and this is a real goddamn doozy, folks, so hang on to your sweet asses. What—“

 

While he was talking you sat the puppet high up on a shelf and started walking off, Nepeta and Tavros following.

 

“Real mature, Jane.”

 

You head towards the back where Dirk’s workshop is. On most occasions you can find him there, tinkering away with something. There are too many ideas rattling around his mind for him to ignore. You just hope he’s been somewhat taking care of himself. Or more accurately, someone else has been because Dirk doesn’t have the best track record.

 

Sure enough Dirk is at his main workbench, hunched over examining what you call your son. Lil Seb kicks his feet back and forth over the edge, absolutely hindering Dirk’s work.

 

“Well don’t you look all spick and span.”

 

Lil Seb’s head whips towards you and he hops off the table, racing over to throw his metal arms around your legs. You rub between his ears.

 

“Someone missed me.” He nods. “Are you going to behave yourself this time?” He shakes his head.

 

As exhausting as Lil Seb can be he’s too precious to stay irritated at. Sort of like his father, who has come over. His pointed shades don’t fully hide the bags under his eyes, and his black undershirt holds him in a way that shows off how skinny he is. Instantly you’re stuck with the urge to feed him before tucking him into bed. You make a note to talk shipping with Nepeta later; maybe you two can find him a moirail or matesprit to take care of him.

 

“Yo Tav, Nepeta. Jane, our son helped Hal and Dos set up some sort of labyrinth in a back room that I decided I don’t want to be a witness to.”

 

“Terrifying. A wise decision on your part.”

 

The door bursts open behind you and before anyone can react Dos has thrown her arms around Nepeta in a fierce hug. She squeals, and Nepeta laughs.

 

Hal is absolutely sulking, though you know if you point that out he’ll deny it. You’re still very tempted but ultimate decide to let him keep some remnant of dignity.

 

“Omg, my dear sweet wonderful Nepeta! I’m a cat girl now, lol. You like?”

 

Dos takes a step back and twirls around, showing off her robotic cat ears and matching tail. They’re purple and remind you of the Cheshire Cat. Fitting, you’d say.

 

“Cute!” Nepeta declares, clapping her hands. Tavros nods.

 

“You don’t want to be a cat boy, Hal?” you ask.

 

“That’s not my fursona and you are well aware of the fact, Jane.”

 

You chuckle and give him a good once over, too. While not fursona related, he has made a few adjustments to his appearance; you’re a bit disappointed he didn’t give himself armadillo armor, but you appreciate what he has done. His eyes glow a bright red now, to match Dos’ pink ones. There’s also a little more sleek black to his body, like accents. Not too much, probably because he didn’t want to cover up his clear casing. He and Dos could easily look human but adamantly refuse, celebrating their robotic nature by looking like one of those old game systems with the transparent casings so you could see the inner workings. It was unnerving at first, but you’ve adjusted.

 

When Dirk and Roxy were thirteen they’d decided it would be a fantastic idea to scan their brains and make AI’s of themselves “for funsies”. You aren’t quite up to snuff on the technical details but you know the results: Hal and Dos came into existence.

 

“Janey!” Dos embraces you wholeheartedly now, nuzzling her face against your neck. “We heard about your close call last night. Did you totally beat some ass?”

 

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that. But I don’t think I did too shabby going up against an indigo by my lonesome and managing to fend them off.”

 

“Jane was furnomenal!” Nepeta declares, joining in to make it a group hug.

 

You giggle and try to brush the praise off, both embarrassed but incredibly proud. Even Hal says he’s impressed and that’s just too much. You change subjects, asking Dirk how he’s been. When he tries to tell about all the work he’s gotten done you interrupt and ask if he’s eaten today. He tries to say yes. Dos and Hal lean forward conspiratorially and say no.

 

“Well then, mister, get your butt to the kitchen table. I’m going to whip us up something proper.”

 

Dirk startes to protest but Dos takes him by one arm and Hal takes him by the other, dragging him along.

 

“You two don’t mind staying a little longer than intended, do you?” you ask your troll companions.

 

“Not at all, right Tafuros?” Nepeta assures, squeezing his shoulder.

 

“Nope! No, uh, minding at all. Especially if, you’re cooking for us.”

 

“I can’t promise much since I’ll be working with whatever Dirk has available.”

 

“Omg, Janey, no worries! Hal and me’ve been ordering Dirk plenty of groceries.”

 

In the kitchen you open up the cabinets and fridge to see what you’re working with while the others fill out the table. Well. There certainly is a whole row of apple juice. Which is, yes, Dave’s favorite drink but this is a bit excessive. Is it an irony thing? Maybe you need to have a talk with Hal and Dos on what groceries they should be getting.

 

There are plenty of tortillas and cheese, at least. Quesadillas it is.

 

As you’re setting that up the others have somehow gotten onto quadrants and shipping. Nepeta is showing off her palmhusk where she has her complete shipping wall.

 

“Sollicks set this up for me. I think as a little way to show his a-purr-eceation for getting him and Equius together. You can put in any name and see both their quadrants and who I ship them with.”

 

“Interesting,” Hal comments, peering over at the screen. There’s hardly any inflection to his voice but you can sense the admiration. You think he may have a little crush on Sollux. “Can you put in his name to demonstrate it?”

 

Lips curling upwards, Nepeta does. Suspicion all but confirmed; if Nepeta suspects something, there’s something there.

 

“See? Here are his two quadrants—Terezi in his diamond, Equius in his spade. Scroll down for all his ships.”

 

Hal does, holding the screen towards himself and Dos. She squeals and he quickly hands it back, making sure no one else sees and rambling about nonsense.

 

Mm, there’s that sweet confirmation.

 

Taking the first batch of quesadillas over you wonder, “Do you have everyone on this?”

 

“Mhm! I purrfur my hardcopy shipping wall, but this is very handy when I need to make adjustments on the go.”

 

“I can imagine. Am I on there?”

 

“Of course! But, yours isn’t up to date,” Nepeta hastily informs, glancing away from you. Hm. How suspicious.

 

“Then show me how it works with someone else’s. How about Tavros’?”

 

“Oh, ha, um, no,” Tavros says, rubbing the back of his neck. “We should not, look at that, actually. Ever.”

 

“Well I can’t begrudge you that. How about Karkat’s?”

 

In unison Nepeta and Tavros say, “No.” Well you’re most certain something’s going on there! This will require further investigation.

 

But later. Now it is quesadilla time, i.e. Dirk care hour. It involves piling a verified tower of quesadillas on his plate while Nepeta types his name into her shipping wall to talk possible quadrants.

 

“I would rather be decapitated than talk about my love life.”

 

“Or lack thereof,” Dos snorts while Hal says, “That can be arranged. Then I can seamlessly step into your disaster of a life and take over. Or we can Weekend At Bernie’s this shit up.”

 

“Dave’s been teaching me taxidermy, so we totally could, lol.”

 

“I’m putting that squarely in the ‘no’ pile, right along with trying to play matchmaker with me.”

 

“Oh come on, Dirk,” you tease, knocking your elbow against his, “isn’t there anyone you have your pretty orange eyes on?”

 

“I mean, sure. I keep imagining your dad sneaking into my workroom while I’m busy and massaging my shoulders, but I don’t really think that’s viable.” He pauses, biting a quesadilla. “Unless you know something I don’t.”

 

You rub the bridge of you nose right beneath your glasses. This boy loves to try you with his absolute thirst for Dad. You’ve really got to find him a boyfriend.

 

For a while the seven of you just sit and chat, having a blast. Though Seb can’t speak, having refused the capabilities whenever it’s been brought up, he does know several sign languages included Troll Sign Language which he’s been teaching you in your rare spare time.

 

Time quickly gets away from you, and surprisingly soon it’s that period between late afternoon and early evening where you can get away with considering it either. You say your goodbyes and head out.

 

It’s when you get back in your car to take everyone home, mid telling Lil Seb to buckle up, that your phone dings. As you’re taking it out Nepeta and Tavros get messages, too.

 

Another clown church has been broken into a town over. It’s been defaced, and you expand the image Terezi sends. In purple paint— _blood_ , you realize horrifically—someone has written on a wall:

 

CULL THE HERETICS


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After checking out the latest crime scene, Gamzee invites them to lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, I forgot I hadn't posted this chapter. Whoops! 
> 
> Mentions of a nasty end for a clown pastor. Not too descriptive. 
> 
> Also mentions of pale ghb/condy.

It’s definitely blood. Any hopes you might have harbored otherwise were shattered the moment you walked into the church.

 

This place has been absolutely ransacked. Furniture destroyed, windows smashed, the glass embedded into candles and effigies of angels. There was a hemospectrum rainbow—complete with mutant candy red and the extinct lime—made of clay that had been broken into millions of pieces and flung all around.

 

At first you thought the perps had decorated all the walls and ceilings with strange cult symbols and Rorschach tests, but it turns out clown churches are just like that. All of it is just paint paint, not the blood paint scrawled behind the ruined pulpit.

 

The blood belonged to the church’s Wicked Mirthslammer. Which, you were informed, is something like a clown pastor. His body was found in several places including the rafters, the fridge in the back room, and a hand shoved into the ceremonial jack in a box. It had been a gruesome sight.

 

The body parts have all been removed for further study and currently you’re standing in front of the ominous message with Terezi and Nepeta on your right.

 

“Do mew think it’s related?”

 

“Ain’t all and up no regular motherfucking incident of clown on clown violence,” a voice behind you replies, and you turn as Gamzee Makara steps up to your left. There’s an open Faygo—grape—in his hand which he he holds up in toast. “Enjoy the dark carnival, my wicked sibling.” Then he upends the bottle and you step back as Faygo splashed on your boots.

 

“Goddamn it, Gamzee, this is a crime scene,” Terezi reprimands.

 

“Oh right. Whoops.”

 

Terezi facepalms, shaking her head. In his defense, you think, the floor was already sticky from sermons. Any curiosity you had about maybe sitting in on clown church one day has been thoroughly snuffed.

 

“Gamzee,” Nepeta speaks up, “mew think this is connected to the bombings?”

 

“Sure as shit, kitty sis. Wasn’t up and exploded in unfunny hellfire like the others, but the intent’s the same damn thing. Some motherfucker isn’t down with the new open clown door policy. Some mirthless bastards still believe in hemosuperiority and wanna destroy the miracle of equality.”

 

“The Palehouse was bombed by humans,” you point out. “We typically don’t care about your hemospectrum. We’ve got quite enough bigotry between our own races, frankly. Now I bet my luckiest dime you’re on to something, Gamzee, but there are bigger things in play. I intend to get to the bottom of them.”

 

—

 

There’s not much else at the crime scene. You were going to go over notes with Terezi but Gamzee invited the three of you to lunch. Apparently none of them see anything strange about grabbing a bite directly after a murder scene, but you’re also famished so really you’re not one to judge.

 

Gamzee leads you all to a retro style diner. You appreciate the 1950s aesthetics, especially the jukebox they have with period appropriate music. Not a single track after fifty-nine; you checked. That’s the attention to detail that earns your approval. You say as much as you slide back into the booth next to Nepeta.

 

“Yeah this is one bitchtits eatery,” Gamzee says with a grin that’s all jagged fangs. “Cronus and me come here all the time. Motherfucker can’t get enough of the cherry pie, like he up and found a goddamn miracle in its gooey guts.”

 

“I always have to admire how colorful your vocabulary is,” you comment. “Though I say I can’t quite imagine Dualscar of all people sitting in a nineteen-fifties diner.”

 

“He’s got eclectic tastes,” Terezi replies with a shrug. “And good taste in pies. I know what I’m getting.”

 

“Should you really start off with dessert?” you tease.

 

“You’re not my moirail. I know because Sollux would help me eat a whole pie.”

 

“I might be your moirail in disguise because I must admit that does sound tempting.”

 

In the end you all order two pies—cherry and blueberry. Terezi takes a photo of them to send to Sollux, promising to get him a slice of each when she heads back. Nepeta decides to bring her own meowrail a blueberry one, and you can’t help but find their pale devotion precious.

 

“Gamzee, you don’t have a moirail to bring pie back to, do you?”

 

“Nah, sister, this clown ain’t into the whole quadrant business,” Gamzee answers, picking a slice of cherry up with his hand; some of the filling plops back onto the plate. “S’messy and too much work. I ain’t gonna deny a cute motherfucker who up and wants to drag me into a pile every now and then, but I ain’t cut out for that long term mirthfulness none. All my pie is for my lonesome.” He takes a bite of the pie finally, swallowing after only chewing twice. “What about your pretty little self? I know a fine big horned motherfucker who up and wouldn’t mind to get you all up in his diamond.”

 

You feel Nepeta shift quickly, then Gamzee yelps and jerks back, knee banging hard against the table’s underside.

 

“I’m pawsitive that certain someone doesn’t want mew playing wingman for him right meow, Purrkara.”

 

Nepeta is all smiles, but those smiles are like daggers. You fold one leg over the other, silently willing your body to cool its jets.

 

The conversation shifts from relationships to the case. You ask Gamzee if he knows of anyone who’s threatened the church in particular. His shoulder shrugs lazily, almost nonchalant, but his expression gives him away. There’s a rage behind his eyes just barely being held back.

 

“I know of one mirthless motherfucker who all up wants to shred the church’s new peace tents and stake back up the old scriptures full of hate and hemo bullshit.”

 

Before you can ask who, Terezi is putting her hand on his arm saying in the softest voice you’ve ever heard her use, “He’s locked up, Gamzee. He may be the inspiration, it may be done in his name, but he’s not behind this.”

 

“That motherfucker’s claws are far reaching, sister. You all ain’t been privy to his powers. Not like I have. His thinkpan’s all twisted up just like his unfunny bloodpusher. If there are monsters lurking under beds, you can be sure they report to only one bad mirthmurderer.”

 

“Who?” you prod gently, heedless of the sad frowns on your other companions.

 

Looking you dead in the eye Gamzee says, “The Grand Highblood.”

 

Of course that title is referenced in the Alternian history books. The previous leader of the clown church, and of the subjuggulators. The right hand troll and moirail of the empress herself. From what you’ve read he was a bloodthirsty monster, a man who would laugh at executions and paint right there with the fresh blood. You also know his fate. In the grand battle for the throne he faced off with Dualscar. It was close, a fight raging for hours according to some sources, days according to others. In the end Dualscar was victorious— _barely_. He managed to subdue the clown and now he’s with the Condesce, imprisoned.

 

You can understand Gamzee’s fear. The Grand Highblood sounds like an absolute nightmare even by troll standards. Or, at least, the current regime. His brand of violence was normalized for eons. His mark, and the Condesce’s, are long reaching stains on the whole race. They’re still trying to come out from under the shadows of tyrants.

 

“From what I’ve heard he has no power anymore, and is under constant surveillance.”

 

“I ain’t got expectation of your hornless self to understand, but that motherfucker can’t be trusted. Every words he spits seeps with miracles he twists like the head off a doll. He’s got a bag of mirthless tricks at the ready, sinking his claws in and pulling them out like a righteous clown ninja all up assassinating the peace we’ve tried to build. All that motherfucker wants is a good time—and ain’t no walls and watchful sight orbs gonna stop him.”

 

As he speaks the diner gets darker and darker, and the windows warble. Blood, so much colorful blood pours from the walls, from cracks in the glass, gushing into the diner and filling it. You’re stuck in your seat, immobilized, as you scream at your body to find a high perch against the black waves. Instead you continue sitting there uselessly as blood slowly overtakes you all—

 

“Shoosh,” Nepeta says, voice breaking through the darkness, and suddenly everything is as it once was, no traces of blood anywhere.

 

“Watch where you’re using those things,” Terezi chastises, rubbing Gamzee’s arm. He gives an embarrassed grin.

 

“Whoops, my bad, sisters. Chucklevoodoos got a little frisky there. They always feel like they gotta come out and play when I get started down those dark thoughts.”

 

“Quite alright,” you assure him, sure your hard breathing gives away just how much you were affected. Like the good friends they are, your companions don’t comment on it. “I can understand having strong opinions on a man like that. I’ve read about his atrocities.”

 

Shaking his head sadly, untamed curls bouncing around, Gamzee tells you, “History books ain’t covering the half of the shit that jokestyrant’s done. Ain’t none of those mirth scribers _been_ there like I have. Ain’t been privy to the unfunniest japetrocities and one-on-one hatesermons. They ain’t gotten that mirthfucker all up in their business like a rotten ingredient in a pie. When I say that troll’s humor is an unrighteous hellscape, I up and mean it, my hornless sister.”

 

You hadn’t any idea that Gamzee had any personal encounters with the Grand Highblood. Your curiosity is certainly piqued. Gamzee seems to smell it off you as he leans forward almost conspiratorially, mouth splitting into a humorless grin.

 

“Wanna know a secret that your little mystery muffler ain’t gonna sniff out anywhere else?”

 

Of course you do. You give the slightest of nods, eyes on him unwaveringly. Your other companions don’t look happy—Terezi is stabbing her pie with more force than necessary while Nepeta’s claws dig into the tabletop—but they don’t intervene.

 

“The Grand Highblood’s hatch name is Kurloz _Makara_.”

 

He spits the last name out like a cobra spitting poison, and you reel. No wonder Gamzee’s fear and loathing are so intense.

 

“He’s your ancestor?”

 

Like a switch was flicked, Gamzee suddenly leans back in the booth with an easy smile on his face and chirps, “Yup.”

 

He goes back to eating his pie cheery as can be, and you are absolutely gobsmacked.

 

“It’s not something we really like broadcasted,” Terezi speaks up. “Humans and trolls alike would just see Gamzee as a smaller version of him if it was known. But he’s not his ancestor. None of us are. Which is what we keep trying to get people to understand.” A flash of something painful crosses Terezi’s face. You get the feeling she’s imagining something or someone specific.

 

“It’s hard enough fur Fefurry,” Nepeta agrees. “Lots of trolls keep expecting her to do things like the Condesce.”

 

“Regime changes are never smooth,” you comment.

 

“This pie is all sorts of smooth,” Gamzee pipes up, and everyone looks at him with expressions ranging from fond to incredulous. “Y’all motherfuckers gonna finish yours?”

 

Spitefully Terezi shoves the rest of a slice into her mouth. It doesn’t all fit, some spilling back down to the plate. Still she chews away, looking to her right but somehow still managing to not quite face Gamzee.

 

Later, when everyone has had their fill and you’re all packing up, laughing and joking as you stand up from the booth, the window shatters from a brick flying through. It lands on the table, splattering a cherry pie. There’s no time to react to that as something else flies through the hole—it’s round, with a clown face drawn on it. You try to smack it back out but it goes off, a thick purple smoke filling the diner. You cover your mouth and nose, just thankful it wasn’t an explosive. You don’t want to die in a 1950s diner of all places; you’re more of a noir sort of girl.

 

There’s the loud bang of the door being kicked open over the panicked yelling of other patrons. Then a dark cackle starts up, overtaking everything.

 

_Things_ move in the smoke. You can feel their hunger pulsing around you as they hunt. They’re on the search for something in particular and, seized with a dread that paralyzes your whole body and the problem solving receptors in your brain, you know they’re after your companions.

 

You want to scream, to charge at the ne’er-do-wells assaulting the diner, but all you can do is _watch_. And what you see is altogether unexpected.

 

The smoke is moving rapidly now, accumulating all in one spot as it starts to take shape. A dragon, you think, winged and long-bodied, tail flicking like a cat’s.

 

Everything is revealed now, though shadows still cling to the room. The dragon eyes every corner, then zeroes in on the pair of looming clowns that busted in. They stare down the dragon and the clown—your clown—who comes up beside it.

 

“Y’all motherfuckers ruined a perfectly good pie. Wicked unfunny prank, my siblings. Think it’s time to up and apologize.”

 

“Makara!” one of the enemy clowns snarls, pointing a large spiked club at Gamzee. “You’re a motherfucking mockery of the church! The messiahs themselves look down and spit on you!”

 

With an easy shrug Gamzee replies, “Heh, prolly.”

 

His nonchalance infuriates the other clowns who roar with a staggering intensity. The dragon’s maw splits open and lets out a deafening boom, unrelenting until the clowns have fallen to their knees, hands clutching at their ears. The one who had spoken tries to get up, to push through the terrible wailing—that, you suddenly realize, doesn’t affect you—but falls back down each time.

 

Terezi and Nepeta appear behind them suddenly, former with two pairs of handcuffs. Tossing one to Nepeta she calls out, “Nap time, Gambo.”

 

“Can do, sister. Lullaby and goodnight, unrighteous motherfuckers.”

 

The smoke swoops down at the clowns, enveloping them, sinking into them. When the smoke disappears they fall unconscious to the ground. Terezi and Nepeta cuff them.

 

In a rush all the shadows are gone and the diner is returned to normal. There are a lot of scared people, but by some miracle they’re all uninjured.

 

“I think they may have wanted to take you alive, Gamzee, or else why not kill you when your guard was down?”

 

“Probably right about that, my hornless sis. Probably wanted to take me in and kill me all sorts of slow like, make sure I felt it all a thousand times over. Make me privy to their rage at dethroning that mad mirthslayer.”

 

You glance over at Gamzee who’s saddled up beside you while your companions take care of the clowns.

 

“We won’t let them hurt you, Gamzee, though I must admit you’re far more capable than I ever gave you credit for.”

 

He laughs, it’s just on the side of dry, and says, “Same motherfucking thing I heard from Kurloz.”

 

You don’t know how to reply to that, but you’re saved from having to think of anything.

 

“The worst part is,” Gamzee says just loud enough for you to catch, voice low and so utterly despondent, “he’d have loved me if I coulda just gotten a better act.”

 

Gamzee walks off towards the others, leaving you there to mull that over. Things just keeping getting more complicated, and you can feel something deeper brewing in the shadows.


End file.
